


Diabolus Ex Machina

by zimriya



Series: Kitten Fics [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Combeferre is a disney princess, EVERYONE - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, M/M, also his life is hard, everyone is a kitten now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac breaks up with his on-again-off-agian warlock boyfriend, and when Combeferre wakes up the next morning, he finds that all of his friends have been turned into kittens.</p><p>The sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/842055">Deus Ex Machina</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Diabolus Ex Machina

**Author's Note:**

> For Shira, who is lovely, and also for everyone who was promised this long, long, long ago. Enjoy the kittens. (Also for Marta, because most things I write end up being for Marta or for Flamingo who should STEP UP HER GAME.)
> 
> Enjolras is a red and silver [Turkish Angora](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oPHLMPMjO_U/T6eTV1HrvqI/AAAAAAAAAmE/6vDUCCVVz_Y/s1600/jane-burton-red-silver-turkish-angora-cat-with-sandy-lop-rabbit.jpg) (do not ask about the rabbit I don’t know.)  
> Grantaire is a [York Chocolate cat](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LlfXWxcpJyU/S8PzX-1nUzI/AAAAAAAAddM/3fh1SoWKmtI/s400/york+chocolate+cat+1.JPG).  
> Courfeyrac is a black [Nebelung](http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l8l9elzXmo1qzq2l5o1_500.jpg). (I could not find a good picture so imagine more mischief in its eyes.)  
> Eponine is a [Brown/Grey tabby](http://www.dkimages.com/discover/previews/885/40002934.JPG). Possibly a Main Coon but I really don’t know.  
> Marius is a ruddy [Somali](http://www.catbreedsjunction.com/images/SomaliCatFFSized.jpg).  
> Bahorel is a [Bengal](http://images4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100128085430/dogs-cats/images/5/51/The_Bengal.jpg).  
> Feuilly is an [Aegean Cat](http://vetbook.org/wiki/cat/images/f/fc/Aegean.jpg) (because Greece and I’m not even sure anymore. He is not impressed.)  
> Jehan is a [Russian Blue](http://www.petfinder.com/images/breeds/cat/4000.jpg).  
> Joly is a [Classic Silver American Shorthair](http://www.tica.org/public/breeds/2012/as_c.jpg).  
> Bossuet is a [Bombay](http://www.breeding-cats.com/image-files/fotolia_1074679_xs.jpg) (because black cats and bad luck and I’m awful carry on.)  
> Musichetta is a [Havana](http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/images8/Havana_Brown_Grand_Champion_SusitnaLadys_Trudy_of_Mokolea.jpg).
> 
> Betaed by Murf, as always. All other mistakes are my own.

**Diabolus Ex Machina**

\--

Combeferre wakes up, and instead of Eponine in his bed, there is a familiar but slightly larger ball of orange and white fluff, staring down at him with piercing, pissed off blue eyes.

He reaches out for his glasses, puts them on, and finds himself on the receiving end of the coldest glare possible. The stare belongs to a cat, tiny, with ticked off ears and far too much tail. It is entirely too familiar for this early in the morning.

Combeferre takes the glasses off and sets them back on the bedside table.

The kitten meows at him, angrily, and its tail goes lashing furiously against his chest.

Combeferre debates closing his eyes again, and it sinks its claws in.

“Yes, okay, I’m awake, Enjolras, please,” says Combeferre.

Enjolras looks momentarily shocked--as well as he can as a small cat--before he makes a pleased humming noise. He really is rather adorable as a cat. Also, he looks less than impressed by the whole situation, and is actually tapping one paw on Combeferre’s chest. After a pause, he reaches out with one paw to tap him on the face, which is cute, but also serves to snap him out of it.

“Right,” says Combeferre. He gets to his feet, yawning, and cuddles Enjolras to his chest on his way towards his phone. At which point he freezes, because sitting sulkily in his bedroom doorway is a half-grey half-brown kitten with furious brown eyes. It looks up at him, sees Enjolras in his arms, and makes an awful yowling noise.

Combeferre’s stomach sinks. “Um,” he says. “Eponine?”

In his arms, Enjolras makes a chirping noise, and the other kitten--Eponine, apparently--makes and odd nodding movement with its head. With her head.

Combeferre is seriously considering putting Enjolras down and going back the fuck to sleep, because it is way too early for these kind of things; he’s only just stopped wanting to eat all of his text books, he does not need everyone important in his life turning into kittens.

Speaking of which.

He reaches the phone, picks it up, and dials Courfeyrac’s cell phone. It goes straight to voicemail, and with a horrible, sinking feeling, Combeferre dials the landline. This time it rings through, and when it asks him to leave a message, he says, sighing, “Courfeyrac?” He pauses. “I know you’re there. And that you can hear me. And I’d like to say, firstly, that you are never having one night stands ever again.”

He waits a bit.

Enjolras seems content to purr into his chest, and is actually kneading at his shirt whenever Combeferre pets his ears. They’re about as large as they were last time, but instead of being sulky and miserable (like Eponine is; she’d scampered off a few seconds ago and hopefully wasn’t angrily shredding anything that smelled like Courfeyrac) he just seems tired.

“Now meow, please, if you can hear me.”

Combeferre has to wait a few more, painful seconds, before a very tiny, very pitiful meowing noise bleeds through the phone. He sighs.

“Courfeyrac,” he says. “I really hate your ex-boyfriend.”

And then, giving Enjolras a long look, he hangs up the phone, turns it off, and climbs back into bed.

Enjolras curls up on the pillow next to him and makes a quiet mewing noise.

“Do you think it’s just you and Eponine and Courfeyrac?” he asks into the darkness a few moments later.

Enjolras’ tail swishes across the bed a few times, before the telltale sound of someone small and unassuming breaking into the apartment reaches both of their ears. A few seconds later, Grantaire appears on the bed next to Enjolras, looking incredibly pleased with himself and equally brown and cat-like.

Combeferre rolls over, and closes his eyes.

“Why me?” he asks, sadly, and goes to sleep.

\--

“Eponine,” says Grantaire. “Would you stop doing that?”

Eponine doesn’t look up from where she’s been pacing in front of the door. “Shut up,” she says. “It’s making me anxious.”

“What’s making you anxious?” says Enjolras, and Grantaire kicks him in the side. He frowns at Grantaire, tail doing that lashing thing, before better arranging the two of them into a ball.

Eponine casts a glance over her shoulder at them, before heaving a sigh and sitting down. She still flicks her eyes towards the door every few seconds, but she’s not giving Grantaire a headache anymore. “The two of you have it easy,” she says. “You’ve already spent a week as cats.” She fluffs up her own tail in response and narrows her eyes at them. “I’m not used to it.”

“I think it’s unfair to say I’m used to it,” says Enjolras, mildly, from somewhere to Grantaire’s left. He’s stopped grooming the fur there, and is instead simply resting his head against Grantaire. “But you will get the hang of it.”

Eponine snorts. “Right,” she says. “Only this time there’s probably no guarantee of a loophole, since the last time Courfeyrac called me he sounded pretty broken up about the whole Bastien thing.”

Enjolras doesn’t lift his head. “Courfeyrac called you about Bastien?”

Eponine twists her mouth into something of a wry smile, and Grantaire really should be worried at how easy it is for him to accept the more feline edge to it. “Well,” she says. “Courfeyrac called Bastien.”

Grantaire pauses. “Courfeyrac did what, now?” he says.

Enjolras lets out a long breathe and buries his face in Grantaire’s shoulder. “I hate him,” he says. “You should have let me claw his eyes out last time.”

“To be fair,” points out Eponine. “He was rather drunk for most of the conversation.”

“You were there?”

Enjolras has started mumbling nonsense against Grantaire’s neck, but even he pauses to look up. “You let him call Bastien?”

“No,” says Eponine. She somehow manages to roll her eyes. “No, I _stopped_ him from calling Bastien.” She sounds inordinately smug about that, and Grantaire narrows his eyes at her.

“What did you do?” he says.

The door to Combeferre and Enjolras’ apartment opens to reveal Combeferre, looking bedraggled and exhausted, holding eight kittens. Technically, Grantaire supposes, he is holding seven, since the one he strongly suspects is Courfeyrac is sitting on his head.

“She tackled me,” the kitten in question says, sadly, with Courfeyrac’s voice.

“Yep,” says Eponine, with pride. “I did indeed.”

“You did what?” says one of the kittens, a worried looking silver tabby with large, round, green eyes.

Grantaire frowns at it. “Joly?” he ventures

“Yep,” confirms one of the other kittens. It’s solid black with large, luminous, yellow eyes.

“Bossuet,” Grantaire determines, and Bossuet manages to wink at him, somehow. “And...” he lets his eyes roam over the others.

One of them is a reddish-brown color, looks miserable, and when Combeferre pushes the door open to reveal Cosette, it perks up considerably.

“Cosette!” cries Eponine. “You’re not a cat--Cosette!” She abandons the corner she was sulking into to go paw at Cosette’s jeans, and Cosette laughs. The reddish-brown kitten makes a pitiful mewing noise.

 “So that’s Marius, then,” Grantaire tells Enjolras, who nods. They both watch as Combeferre sets Marius down on the ground, only to wince as he goes tripping across the floor.

“Claws, Marius,” says Eponine, kindly, coming over to give him a nudge. He makes a pitiful noise, and sits down.

“I think I am allergic,” he tells Grantaire, sadly.

Grantaire manages an expression that passes for sympathy, before ducking to hide his face in the scruff of Enjolras’ neck.

“Don’t laugh,” says Enjolras, but he sounds amused. “It’s not very nice.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Marius, still sounding sorry for himself. “Bahorel already laughed when he found out.”

“Hey,” says one of the other kittens. Bahorel is striped, with terrifying, exotic green eyes and an easy look to him. He’s pressed up to who Grantaire thinks is Feuilly, and the other kitten looks less than pleased by the situation. Feuilly doesn’t look quite like the others, and Grantaire would be curious as to his breed if Grantaire wasn’t a little bit concerned over the fact that all of his friends were now cats.

“Bahorel,” says Musichetta, from Feuilly’s right. “I’m going to say retract your claws.” She looks bigger than the others, with chocolate fur and lean build.

“Or lose an eye,” mutters Feuilly. He gives Combeferre a quick glance, and the man sighs and sets them down on the ground.

“So question,” says Grantaire. “How many of us are _not_ kittens?”

“That’d be Cosette and Combeferre,” says Jehan, settling down onto his haunches and letting his tail go back and forth in a soothing rhythm. He’s slim, blue-grey color with vibrant green eyes. “We’re not sure why.”

“Not that it matters,” says Bahorel. He’s bouncing around the apartment with a kind of enthusiasm that has Enjolras glancing between him and the furniture with concern.

“It definitely matters,” says Eponine. She comes back over like she hasn’t spent the last few minutes purring around Cosette’s legs, and drags Courfeyrac back with her.

“I’m really sorry, guys,” he says. He looks remarkably similar to Jehan with large, green eyes and an almost ethereal fine-boned look to his face, but he’s fluffy and black instead of silver and sleek.

Grantaire has to admit that Courfeyrac looks sorry for himself and entirely honest in his apology, but be it that he is a cat again, he really can’t help himself. “I’m sure,” he says. “But seeing as it is your relationship problems that got us into this mess in the first place--”

“Hey, no,” says Courfeyrac, scruff fluffing up and ears pressing back.

Grantaire remembers what it was like to be that unable to control the way basic emotions displayed themselves through actions, and feels almost a little bad. But then Courfeyrac opens his mouth.

“It was your relationship issues that got us into this thing in the first, first place,” continues Courfeyrac. “Need I remind you of Combeferre’s little issue?”

Grantaire opens his mouth, and closes it, before turning to look over at Combeferre. The man is crouched over by Cosette and Marius, who does look increasingly more and more panicked each time he sneezes, and winces.

“Okay, that’s terrifying,” says Combeferre, when he looks up and finds all eight of them staring at him blankly. “I’m going to go call Bastien.”

“No, don’t!” says Cosette, at the same time Courfeyrac flings himself across the room at Combeferre. He lands somewhat haphazardly across the man’s shoulders and chest, claws digging in, and Grantaire has to hand it to Combeferre for only yelping and stumbling to pull him into his arms.

“Okay,” says Combeferre.

“I think he should call Bastien,” says Enjolras, reasonably, from his place by Grantaire’s side.

Bahorel has stopped pawing around the apartment to groom Feuilly, but he looks up when he hears Enjolras and snorts. “You’re not allowed to give relationship advice,” he says. “You’re a cat.”

Enjolras blinks. “So are you!” he protests, and Grantaire gets up to go sit on him.

“Hush,” he tells him, as he arranges himself so that he’s pretty much smothering him into the ground. “You’re making it worse.”

“How am I making it worse?” says Enjolras, muffled, from underneath Grantaire’s left front paw. He sounds like he’s sulking, but less so.

Bahorel watches them for a bit, before going back to grooming Feuilly. “Besides,” he continues, “Obviously we shouldn’t call Bastien without all the facts.”

Joly looks up from where he’s been inspecting Marius worryingly. “How are we supposed to find all the facts?” he says, sounding concerned.

At his side, Marius sneezes. “Sorry,” he says, and Cosette makes a cooing noise and picks him up.

Eponine has settled down next to Jehan, who looks the calmest of all of them. “Why don’t we ask Courfeyrac?” he says, reasonably.

They all turn to look at Courfeyrac, who has settled into the junction of Combeferre’s neck and chest. “What?”

“You’re the one who broke up with him,” says Eponine.

“I did no such thing!” protests Courfeyrac.

“How did you communicate with them last time?” says Cosette, gently, before he can continue.

“With a Ouija board,” says Combeferre, with a pained expression, “which I think we still have.”

He sets Courfeyrac down on the ground, where he is immediately pounced on by Eponine and Bahorel, who grab hold of each of his ears and start gumming on them, before heading towards his bedroom.

“If you didn’t break up with him, why are we kittens?” says Enjolras, still from under Grantaire’s left front paw.

“The man has a point,” says Grantaire.

Everyone is quiet.

“Cat, you mean?” says Musichetta, quietly.

“Yes,” says Grantaire. “The kitten has a point.”

There’s another small silence.

“I hate you,” Enjolras tells Grantaire, equally quietly, before lifting his head. Grantaire goes sliding off of him onto the floor next to him. “You’re an awful person--cat.”

“True,” says Grantaire. “But be honest, who are you most angry with? Me? Or the one over there?”

He nods over towards Courfeyrac, slumped under the combined weight of Eponine and Bahorel.

“I really am sorry,” says Courfeyrac. “I really was trying not to mess things up with Bastien.”

“See, I get that,” says Eponine, from his left, “but seeing as you decided it was a good idea to go on a date with a wizard in the first place--”

“It was the only way to fix Combeferre!” protests Courfeyrac. “Ow!”

Eponine lets go of his ear with an alarming cat grin.

“But also, you broke up with your wizard boyfriend.”

“For the last time I didn’t break up with him!” says Courfeyrac, shoving Eponine away from him and pressing both of his ears back down against his skull. The effect is rather adorable, be it that he is a ball of black fur.

“Oh my god,” says Enjolras, suddenly, into the silence. “Is that what I looked like last time?”

For a few seconds, no one is brave enough to answer him.

“No?” says Joly, finally, into the silence.

“Not at all?” adds Bossuet. He’s not moved from where Musichetta parked him on the edge of the carpet, and everyone is breathing much easier for that. Grantaire, at least, has been keeping an eye on him from where he’s lying in the spot Enjolras pushed him into.

“Yes,” he tells the other kitten, because no one else appears to be willing to.

Enjolras scowls at him.

“No, come on,” says Grantaire. “Don’t look at me like that--relationships are built on honesty.”

Enjolras blinks back at him with a deadpan expression on his face.

“See, I’d forgotten how terrifying that look was on his face when he was a cat,” whispers Bahorel.

“I didn’t,” replies Jehan.

“I’m pretty sure that look haunts my dreams,” adds Feuilly, somewhat dryly.

“Mine too,” says Grantaire, brightly. “I like this--this is much better than last time.”

Eponine scoffs. “Right,” she says. “Only I’m pretty sure you don’t wake up in a cold sweat because of that look. Though I’m sure you end up taking cold showers as well.” She gives Grantaire a truly terrifyingly knowing look, which only further proves that Eponine’s expression look scarier when she has fangs. “And you loved last time.”

“I did not,” says Grantaire, with dignity. “Neither of us did, right, Enjolras?”

Enjolras is silent for a moment. “Well, um,” he says. “We did end up, um,” he starts to say.

“Oh,” says Grantaire. He looks at Enjolras for a moment, taking in the bright blue of his eyes and the fluff of red-orange hair that makes up his scruff.

“They’re talking about that time I accidentally groped Enjolras, aren’t they,” says Courfeyrac, sounding gleeful.

“Shut up, Courfeyrac!” says everyone else, with slightly less glee.

“Fine,” says Courfeyrac, somewhat offended. “See if I ever grace you with my winning personality ever again.”

Eponine is silent for a moment. “Great,” she says. “Seeing as your winning personality is what got us into this in the first place, no loss here.”

“Seconded,” says Bahorel.

“Thirded,” says Feuilly.

“That isn’t a word,” points out Marius, from his place against Cosette’s chest. He sounds amused, but sneezes again and ruins it. Cosette just pets him, and shakes her head.

“I don’t know what any of you guys are saying,” she says. “But it takes two people to ruin a relationship--it’s not entirely Courfeyrac’s fault.”

“Oh no, most of it is Bastien’s fault,” says Grantaire, with a winning smile. “Or Bastien’s parents, actually, for not teaching him that turning other people into kittens isn’t the best way to make friends.”

“Or have a lasting relationship,” says Courfeyrac, sounding less than pleased.

“The point is that some of the blame rests on Courfeyrac,” Grantaire continues, unperturbed, “and seeing as he is the one we can all yell at, we shall.”

“We could go break into Bastien’s aparment,” says Eponine. “I know where it is.”

“I like this plan,” says Enjolras.

“You only like this plan because it means you can scratch him,” points out Grantaire, but fondly.

“So?” says Enjolras.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” says Grantaire. “And that you’re a tiny ball of fluff.”

Enjolras looks flustered. “Shut up,” he says, but Grantaire doesn’t have to look hard to see that he’s purring.

“Aw,” says Feuilly. “Enjolras is purring.”

“That’s petty cute,” points out Musichetta from where she’s been keeping Bossuet company on the carpet. “I remember he couldn’t stop doing that last time.”

“Yes, thank you for that, Musichetta,” says Enjolras. “Need I remind you that last time you weren’t at risk to do so as well?”

Musichetta blinks back at him owlishly. “I’ll have you know I am in perfect control of my feline emotions,” she says, sweetly.

“So am I!” protests Enjolras. It comes out something of a yowl, and his tail goes back and forth.

Grantaire very kindly steps on it and curls around him so that he can rub his head in the fur of his neck. “Hush,” he repeats. “You’re making it worse.”

Enjolras scowls a little, but he curls into Grantaire as well. “I am, though,” he says.

“Yes, and you’re lovely,” agrees Grantaire. “But stop talking.”

There is a brief silence, before all of their friends seem to come to an agreement and pounce on them. Grantaire goes down, yowling, under the combined weight of Bahorel and Bossuet.

“Aw,” Bahorel is saying, loudly, “isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Again,” says Combeferre, coming back into the room. “Why me?”

\--

Combeferre isn’t quite sure how, but he ends up taking Courfeyrac to Bastien’s apartment, where the man--wizard--warlock-- _fiend_ ends up serving him some expensive tea, refuses to talk to kitten Courfeyrac (who is not helpful in the slightest and refuses to let go of Combeferre’s shirt), and also tells Combeferre that he is a lovely person and sends him on his way.

“What just happened?” he asks Courfeyrac, when the door has finished slamming on the two of them and he’s able to speak again.

“I really don’t know,” says Courfeyrac, and Combeferre is all of a sudden very faint.

“Say that again?” he asks, to be sure.

“I really don’t know?” says Courfeyrac. He squirms a little in Combeferre’s grip so that he can look him in the eye. “Are you okay, Combeferre? You look a little bit flushed.”

“Oh, no, no it’s nothing,” says Combeferre, starting down the stairs towards the elevator and his car. “It’s just I can understand you.”

Courfeyrac blinks. “What?”

“Why me,” says Combeferre, very quietly and for the third time that day, and doesn’t say anything the entire ride home.

\--

“It could be worse,” points out Enjolras, gently, from his place on the couch armrest.

Combeferre just makes another glum sounding noise and buries his face deeper into his arms.

“I don’t think you’re helping,” calls Grantaire, from where he’s been watching Marius chase a laser pointer around the room.

“He’s my best friend,” says Enjolras.

“Hey!” says Courfeyrac. He stops stalking Jehan’s tail, and pouts a little. “What am I?”

“The reason I’m a cat,” says Enjolras, matter-of-factly.

“He has a point there, Courfeyrac,” says Combeferre, and then groans.

“You should just leave him to his misery,” says Grantaire. The other kitten smirks a little when Eponine go skittering across the floor in pursuit of the laser pointer. Enjolras knows he’ll never admit it, but he would bet that Grantaire is enjoying being in more control than the others.

Bossuet nearly takes out a lamp again, and Cosette winces. “Sorry!” she says, letting up on the laser pointer.

Everyone except Enjolras and Grantaire lets out a collective groan in response, and she starts flickering it around the room again.

Combeferre just lifts a hand and waves it in the air. “It’s Enjolras’, anyway,” he says.

“Hey,” says Enjolras, but not meanly. “I’m trying to make you feel better.”

“Seeing as you making me feel better is just you talking to me as a cat, it’s not making me feel better,” explains Combeferre.

Enjolras looks at him, slumped across their living room table with his glasses somewhere off to his side, and reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. “There, there,” he says, and Grantaire makes a wheezing dying noise.

“Not helping at all, Apollo!” he manages. “Stop before you kill me.”

Enjolras ignores him.

“I think they’re hungry,” says Cosette, suddenly, watching Marius and Eponine wrestle on the floor. “I mean, what are we going to feed them?”

“I think I still have cat food from Enjolras and Grantaire were cats,” says Combeferre, still sounding glum.

“That food was horrible,” says Enjolras. “You should cook for us.”

That gets Combeferre to lift his head, and Enjolras fixes his deadest stare on his oldest friend in response.

“Well?”

“Enjolras wants us to cook for them,” says Combeferre.

Cosette shrugs. “That’s certainly easier than going to buy cat food.”

“We need to buy a litterbox anyway,” points out Combeferre, somewhat sadly, as Bahorel decides to go pee in one of his pots.

Enjolras scowls at him. “What are you doing?”

“Saving your lovely wood floors,” says Bahorel. “Now don’t look at me.”

“You’re a cat,” says Enjolras.

“Only in body,” says Bahorel, and glares at him until Enjolras looks away.

On the floor, Grantaire has joined in on the wrestling with Marius, but they all have to stop to let him sneeze a few times in quick succession.

“Did Bastien seem forgiving?” says Cosette, watching Marius with concern.

“Not at all,” says Combeferre. “But then, he did tell me he thought _I_ was a lovely person.”

“He also turned you into a goat,” points out Courfeyrac.

Combeferre points at him. “Don’t talk to me,” he says, and Courfeyrac goes back to sulking in the corner.

“Hopefully this spell just wears off as well,” says Cosette, brightly. She pockets the laser pointer, and pulls out her phone. “Now who wants to help me cook dinner?”

“My life has become a Disney movie,” says Combeferre, a few moments later, and Enjolras doesn’t have to look up from where he’s overseeing the chopping of vegetables to know that he’s making a pained face. “Why me?”

\--

Combeferre takes Courfeyrac to Bastien’s apartment, says a quick prayer, knocks on the door, and flings the kitten at him before high-tailing it back towards his car.

“Have you done it?” says Cosette, when he pulls open the driver’s side door and gets in. She’s still wearing her sunglasses.

Combeferre rolls his eyes at her. “It’s broad daylight,” he says. “Why are you wearing all black?”

“Because black is cool,” says Eponine, from the back seat. She climbs up near the gear shift and looks at him until he pets her.

Cosette looks at him until he translates, and she laughs, reaching out to scratch behind Eponine’s ears. “See, she gets me.”

“I’d wear black,” says Jehan, mildly. “Black is nice.”

Grantaire reaches over and shoves him with both back paws, and Combeferre sighs.

“Grantaire,” he says. “I know you miss Enjolras--”

“I do not miss Enjolras!” shrieks Grantaire.

Eponine and Jehan exchange a look, before the latter reaches out to cuff Grantaire on the head. “It’s not your fault,” he says, seriously.

Combeferre really has to admit that he green eyes, silky bluish fur, and elegant build really suits him. That, and Grantaire’s expression is priceless.

“No, it kind of is,” says Eponine. “Seeing as you’re the one who convinced him that someone had to stay and watch Bossuet.”

“To be fair we could not take Bossuet in the car again,” points out Feuilly.

“This is true--the seats will never be the same.”

Combeferre presses his fingers to his temples and groans. “Don’t remind me,” he says.

“It is really odd when you do that,” says Cosette. “You’re just sort of talking back to them, while they meow. People would probably think you’re insane.”

“Not that insane,” points out Marius, from her lap. “People talk to their pets all the time.”

“True,” says Cosette, stroking him. “I guess that means people just assume you’re a crazy cat person.”

“You too,” points out Grantaire.

Combeferre doesn’t bother translating that.

“That’s probably what he thinks, at least,” continues Cosette, pointing across the street at a man walking his dog. He’s stopped on the opposite sidewalk, mouth slightly agape, and staring at Combeferre’s carful of kittens.

“Thank you, Cosette,” says Combeferre.

The man doesn’t seem like he’s going to be moving anytime soon.

Combeferre sighs.

“So, how long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?” says Feuilly, finally. He twitches his ears a little in the backseat, and Grantaire bats at them.

Combeferre sighs again. “Until Courfeyrac fixes it,” he says, reasonably.

Cosette blinks. “Really?” she says. “Because I’m sort of hungry, and that could be weeks.”

It’s slightly awkward not having Courfeyrac there to defend himself, and Combeferre can only watch in muted horror as every single one of the kittens in his car deflate in response.

They end up sitting in a dinner anyway, until they get a call from a very human and very smug sounding Courfeyrac, who assures them that it will never happen again.

“That’s nice, Courfeyrac,” says Combeferre, when he picks up his cell phone. “But seeing as I actually wanted to be able come back to this diner, I’m not feeling all the pleased.”

“What?” says Courfeyrac.

Combeferre sighs, and hands the phone to Cosette.

“It’d be inhumane to leave a bunch of tiny cats in a car,” she tells Courfeyrac, and pauses, adds, “Well, obviously no one else knows they’re actually people,” before shaking her head and handing the phone back to Combeferre.

“So, definitely human, then,” he says.

“You did that on purpose,” says his friend.

“Yes,” says Combeferre. “But think of it this way. This just means I have enough faith in your abilities to assume you’d be able to make a phone call as a kitten.”

Courfeyrac is quiet for a moment. “That’s true,” he says finally.

Combeferre smiles a little. “Now, when is the spell wearing off for everyone else?”

“I’m not sure?” says Courfeyrac, and then very quickly, before Combeferre can hang up on him, “it starts with sneezing!”

Combeferre sets his phone back on the table and levels a look at the kittens. He’s still not quite sure how Cosette managed to convince the owners of the diner to let them bring them into building, but he’s pretty sure that having one of them suddenly be human and naked would not be good.

“So odd question,” he begins, “but none of you feel like sneezing, do you?”

“No,” says Jehan, and then sneezes.

“Not at all,” adds Bahorel, also sneezing.

“I feel fine,” puts in Feuilly, but he sneezes also.

“That’d be pretty instant, don’t you think?” adds Eponine, but she too makes an adorable little noise and her whole body heaves

“Why are you even asking me,” bemoans Marius, between sneezes.

“Don’t look at me!” protests Grantaire, and amazingly, does not sneeze.

Combeferre exchanges a look with Cosette, and very quietly gets to his feet. “Why me?” he mutters, more out of reflex than anything, as he gathered the sneezing kittens into his arms and practically runs them around the corner and into an alley. He leaves Cosette to handle the bill, and seeing as he’s suddenly faced with several very naked, still sneezing friends, Combeferre figures that he drew the short end of the stick.

“Hey,” says Feuilly. “I have thumbs again!”

“And other things,” adds Bahorel, raising both of his eyebrows and giving the other three a long, look.

Eponine hits him, and Combeferre is reminded why he likes her.

“Do we have clothes?” says Jehan, mildly, seemingly unconcerned with how he’s standing naked in an alleyway.

“I don’t--?” says Marius, or tries to, because he ends up sneezing again.

“Are you okay?” says Eponine, looking concerned.

“No, I’m--” begins Marius, before he’s interrupted by sneezing again.

“So I’m still a cat,” says Grantaire. “Which is probably while Marius is sneezing.”

Combeferre can only watch in mild amusement, as all of his friends minus Eponine are very suddenly attempting to cover themselves up.

“Hey, don’t look!” shrieks Bahorel.

“Seriously, R, not cool!” adds Feuilly.

“Why are you all covering me?” says Jehan, quietly.

“You’re all idiots,” says Eponine.

“It’s nothing I’ve never seen before,” points out Grantaire.

Combeferre starts to nod, before he glances between Eponine and Grantaire with narrow eyes. “What?” he says.

Eponine shakes her head at him, before nudging him towards the car. “Go grab us some clothes, yeah?”

“Yes, please!” says Bahorel.

Marius sneezes.

Combeferre sighs, but does as he’s told. He hears Grantaire mutter to Eponine, “You never told him?” but he doesn’t address it, because mostly he just wants to go home and take a very long, very needed, nap.

(He doesn’t get to, because as it turns out, only Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta are human when he gets home, and Enjolras is refusing to come out from underneath his bed.)

\--

By some stroke of luck, it really only takes a few more days for the spell to wear off everyone, but when Grantaire wakes up one morning to find himself curled up against an Enjolras that is very obviously flesh, he’s still a little startled.

“You’re awake,” says Enjolras, when he notices. His eyes are half lidded and sleepy.

Grantaire thinks it’s really unfair for him to look so wonderfully feline even now. “That I am,” he says, because he can. His voice sounds like he hasn’t been using it for a while, which is reasonable seeing as he hasn’t. He feels like he might still have something of a hairball, which is worrying, but otherwise he feels nice. It’s very warm, pleasant, and cozy here. Enjolras makes a fabulous pillow.

“You’re you,” continues Enjolras.

“Mm,” agrees Grantaire, rolling out some of the kinks in his shoulders and yawning.

“I’m glad.”

Enjolras doesn’t seem like he plans on moving anytime soon, which is very lovely for Grantaire. Very lovely indeed, because it means all he has to do is lean up on his forearms to kiss him.

Enjolras makes a pleased noise in response, and tangles a hand into the hair at the back of Grantaire’s head. He uses more teeth than usual, but Grantaire finds that he really doesn’t care. His body still isn’t quite used to being human, and he can feel his chest attempting something of a pur.

It stops being lovely very quickly, however, when the rest of their friends come wandering out of the various rooms they’ve been staying in.

“See,” Courfeyrac is saying, from behind his camera. “I told you it was a good idea to stick around.”

“You didn’t let us leave,” says Eponine, somewhat dryly, but she’s wearing one of Combeferre’s dress shirts and nothing else, so Grantaire figures she’s not all that angry.

“I’m still not sure why we all had to stay,” says Joly, sounding a little miffed.

Bossuet drapes an arm around his shoulders. “Blackmail,” he says.

“Revenge,” agrees Combeferre, with a slightly maniacal expression on his face. “All of the revenge.”

Enjolras lets out a puff of air somewhere near Grantaire’s left ear, and sighs. “You get ten seconds,” he says.

Grantaire takes advantage of being mostly draped over Enjolras to shift, somewhat, mostly to make him hiss. “Only ten seconds?” he says, over the flash of Combeferre’s camera. “I think we can make it fifteen, at least.” He presses a quick kiss to Enjolras’ cheek before the other man can disagree. “Mostly because of all the hairballs you left in his dress shoes.”

There is a beat.

“What?” says Combeferre, slowly, at the same time Enjolras tightens his grip in the hair at the base of Grantaire’s neck.

“Fifteen seconds it is,” he says, lightly. “Make them count.”

Combeferre looks torn, for a moment, but when Grantaire leans down to kiss Enjolras again, he closes his eyes to the flash of the camera.

(Enjolras does a terrifyingly good job of erasing all of the photos from everyone’s phones and cameras and facebook accounts. Grantaire finds it to be incredibly arousing, amusing, and entertaining. That Enjolras misses the one he has hidden in his wallet, is simply a bonus.)

\--

The End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/). I think there's a [sequel](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/53391601961/piningkittenjolras-this-one-is-not-three-sentences-i) to this somewhere.


End file.
